


Love hurts

by EarthGal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt, Implied Castiel/Dean Winchester, Implied Relationship, Jack leaves, M/M, Post 13x06, Post-Break Up, Romance, episode coda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-03 16:51:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12752319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EarthGal/pseuds/EarthGal
Summary: Jack has to go but not without a final goodbye to Sam.





	Love hurts

**Author's Note:**

> Coda 13.06

When Sam, Dean and Cass came to, Jack was already gone — disappeared into thin air. Sam felt betrayed, his skin buzzing with anger. The moment he was upright again, after being blown away by Jack, he started blaming his big brother. “You planted this idea into his head, Dean. That he’s a monster. Now he believes it. He’s gone. And it’s on you. Happy?” He’d said, voice spilling with venom, as his feelings of hurt were turning inside out. 

“Of course I’m _not_ happy. Didn’t you hear me admit that I was wrong. That yes, I thought Jack was evil, but that I don't believe this anymore.”

”Yeah, only after he brought Cass back. Before that, you kept taking your grief out on the kid. You were tailspinning and you were downright scary. You promised you’d kill him."

"I was scared of what he might turn to—we could never be sure he was good, it was always a 50-50 chance. I had to be prepared for the worst."

"Screw that. You’re a selfish bastard, Dean,” Sam had said, and instantly half-regretted it.

”Look, I took it all back. I said I was wrong—”

”Too little, way too late," Sam said, crowding his older brother. His voice lowered but still bitter. 

"What do you want me to do, Sam? Turn back time?"

”Hey, Sam, Dean,” began Castiel, getting in between the brothers. “It’s no one’s fault that Jack left. I don’t like it either. But it was his choice. I know how he must feel. He’s still trying to process all this, and he just killed an innocent. He needs time. I believe he’ll come around."

”Do you, Cass?” It’s Sam who asked.

“I do. I have to.”

”We’ll find him, Sammy. You heard the kid, we're all he has. Like Cass, I believe we'll find a way to bring him back.”

”Oh, now you’re back to believing? When it’s convenient, and when you’ve got your lover by your side. Fucking perfect,” Sam said, his arms flailing in exasperation. 

”Sam!” Dean said, his voice strained, jaw clenched. Sam was well aware he was being unfair, but he knew he had to take the festering anger out on someone or he would have imploded. 

“Sam, what is this about?” Castiel asked, calmly, and it felt like he could see through Sam, beyond the veneer Sam was trying to project. When Sam didn’t respond, Cass spared him, and just added, “I know you care about him, but Dean is right. We will find him.”

”Quit lying to yourself. We won’t. Because right now, Jack doesn’t want to be found. And sure we're all he has, but we let him down,” Sam had said, then turned on his heels and walked away from them. 

He shut himself off in his room for the rest of the evening. 

He tried to research but it was useless. His mind kept going in circles. He tried to watch a show. Game of Thrones. His favorite. But he kept looking through the screen, not really following what’s going on. His mind kept going back full circle to Jack.

His son, his friend and his ... 

... Well, Sam didn’t know what else Jack is.

They did share something: there were feelings, definitely some sexual tension, and a kiss.

Post his rowdy argument with Dean, Sam found Jack cooped up in his room, brooding and thoughtful. He felt sorry for the kid. They talked, and Jack was shaken by what he'd heard. For the life of him, Sam couldn’t just go without confessing that he not only truly cares about Jack, but that it’s something more.

At Sam's words, Jack’s eyes watered and met Sam's, searching for the truth in them. Before he knew it, Sam found himself with an armful of Jack. They kept holding on to each other. Turning their heads just so, their lips almost touched. Jack’s were red and moist with unshed tears, and Sam couldn’t help leaning in and pressing his own mouth against Jack’s, pecking softly, almost experimentally. When Jack looked up at him, adoringly, like Sam means everything, Sam dipped his head again and stole another kiss, then another, until there was nothing in the room but the sound of their lips meeting and parting and their breaths catching between the kisses. After making out for a few minutes, each deepening the kisses, and making them linger, they broke apart and laughed shyly.

Jack wanted more, but Sam gently told him he couldn’t allow it — not until the boy is older. He was, after all, Sam’s responsibility. And he was awfully, beautifully, painfully young. _So no_. He’ll have to wait until he matures and understands what consent means before Sam can let this go any further. Jack protested but Sam insisted.

Besides, if he becomes privy to this, Dean would kill him.

After this, Jack would sneak into Sam's bed at night, and they would kiss and cuddle, and sleep in the same bed until morning. It became like a ritual.

But then, things took a nasty turn and Jack went off. Gone. Vanished now. He left Sam and everyone and went on his own to wallow in guilt and self doubt. 

It was driving Sam mad. The hours passed. Sam slept or pretended to, only to get woken by an unknown number ringing on his phone. He was about to miss the call but something told him to pick up. 

He did. And it was Jack. His boy, on the other end of the line.

Sam was lying in bed, but when he heard his name through the crackle of a bad line (reception has never been great inside the bunker) he quickly sat up. “Jack, is that you buddy?”

”I just wanted to hear your voice.”

”Jack, where are you? Whose number is this? Are you okay?"

"It's a payphone."

"Just tell me where you are and I’ll come to you as fast as I can,” Sam said, and he already started moving. He stood up, and went to put his pants on. Relief flooded through him, and a flare of hope filled his heart for a moment. He might get Jack back after all. 

“I can’t, Sam. I need to protect you.”

”Listen! I don’t know what you think you're doing. But whatever it is, it’s probably wrong. Jack, I’m not afraid of you. And I certainly don’t need protection, not from you, buddy.”

”I can’t control this.”

”Just give it time. Cass is here now and he’ll show you the ropes ... and dude, we all make mistakes.”

”Not like this.”

”Worse. Believe me. Man, I can tell you so many stories. But Jack, I don’t wanna do this over the phone. Where are you?”

When Jack didn’t respond, Sam thought he lost him. “Hello? Jack?”

”I’m still here, Sam.”

”Jack, come back to me, buddy. I can’t ...”

”What? You can't what?”

”I need you back here again. Back in my arms. I want you to sleep in my arms tonight, bud. I’ll keep you safe, I promise. Nothing will hurt you, and you won’t hurt anyone."

"Sam, I don't trust myself."

"You're not evil, Jack. You don't have it in your bones. Promise."

"Sam—"

"Listen! Out there. It’s dangerous.”

”I’ll find a way to tame this, this thing inside of me. And I promise, if I do, when I do, I'll come back and help you find your mom. Inter-dimensional can opener, remember?”

Sam closed his eyes, pained. Tears welled behind his lids. “It’s never been like that. I need you to understand—“

”It’s fine. I get it, I do. But I just can’t put you in harm’s way. I won’t survive it. You— _you_ , Sam—you’re all I have.”

”Come back and we’ll sort this out.”

”No."

"No?"

"I’m sorry.”

”At least tell me you’re safe. Give me a number, an email even, a way I can check on you.”

“Sam, I gotta go.”

”Wait, Jack—“

“I love you, you know.”

”Jack,” Sam whispered, his heart breaking in half.

”Goodbye.”

The young boy, half angel, half human, hung up.

Sam finally let those tears fall. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I updated pub date by a day (18 Nov instead of 17) because I added some 300 words to the story.


End file.
